The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (28 page)

 

 

Doctor Tangle's voice boomed into Mat's reverie. Like a signal from
the master, the rain turned into a downpour, and throbbed against the
arched roof of the chapel. Mat was bored with the ceremony. He found the
phrases trite. There was complete inability on the part of the speakers to
link the graduating class into the chaotic world. Gone were the hopeful
speeches of 1936 when he had received his bachelor's degree. Now there
was bewilderment and groping. The speeches had the same tinge of bright
hopefulness . . . but in the long distant future if the country avoided
European entanglements. What was going to happen for the graduating class,
tomorrow, next week or next year, no speaker cared to dwell upon.

 

 

The rain was trickling through one of the leaded glass windows and down
the cheek of a red and blue saint when Cynthia's name was called up for
her degree.

 

 

Cynthia was Phi Beta Kappa. Three names separated her in the top grouping
from Yale's name. Mat noticed that one of the faculty members took Cynthia's
diploma. It made him feel sad. This should have been her day -- with her
parents beaming proudly and Yale to receive her outside the chapel with
a happy hug and a kiss. Instead there was this terrible furtiveness.

 

 

Sarah Cohen had called him on Doctor Tangle's phone at eight-thirty.
He met her at Joe Pepperelli's. Cynthia was all right. She had had a
terrible experience. "Really terrible, Mat. It's an awful shame."

 

 

"Yes," she admitted finally in answer to Mat's prodding. "I know what
happened. But I promised to tell no one. It wouldn't do you any good
to know, Mat. If only this affair with Yale Marratt hadn't lasted so
long. If only she had broken with him years ago. Whether the way she has
done it now is right or not is none of my business or yours, Mat." Sarah
looked at Mat intently. "I can tell you one thing -- not because she is
Jewish either -- but that girl is a fine person."

 

 

Sarah told him that she was going to the college and get Cynthia's clothes.
"I called the Dean of Women this morning. I told her I was Cynthia's
sister -- that Cynthia hadn't been feeling well and had come home --
that I would get her things and collect her diploma. I finally had to
talk with your friend Doctor Tangle. He believed me. See -- you never
would have thought I could tell such a story. Doctor Tangle praised
Cynthia highly. He told me he would talk with me after the graduation."

 

 

Before the ceremonies, Sarah met Mat standing outside the chapel in his
doctoral robes. "This is a big day for you, Mat. I am happy for you,
and wish that you have your degree always in good health." She nudged
Mat and asked him to point out Patrick Marratt. Mat looked through the
crowd and spotted Pat in a group of parents and faculty members. "So
that's Mr. Marratt." Sarah turned away. "I wish I could spit on him."

 

 

Mat laughed. "Has Harry convinced you that he's that bad?"

 

 

"Not bad . . . just very, very stupid!" Sarah went inside to find a seat.

 

 

The interminable ceremony finally ended. Mat, holding his degree, walked
through the family groups gathered on the lawn in front of the chapel.
He kept praying that he could slip through without encountering Yale.
One thing was a relief. He had no relatives proudly smiling at him.

 

 

He was in luck. Yale was standing on College Avenue with Pat Marratt
and several families near a new Ford convertible. Mat heard someone say,
"Boy, you are a lucky dog, Yale! What a present!" Mat realized that the
new car was a graduation gift. He could see Yale looking over the heads of
the people gathered around the car, a distraught look on his face. He's
looking for me, Mat thought. Had Yale telephoned New Jersey? It would
be embarrassing to be caught in a bare-faced lie. Mat hurried away from
the campus. At least, he reflected, Yale has an extraordinary graduation
gift -- a new car -- to take his mind off Cynthia. He wondered what it
would be like to receive such a present. Probably, no feeling at all,
if you had lost a person you loved. Probably, no feeling anyway. Yale
was a rich man's son and the wealthy took such gifts casually.

 

 

Mat stopped on the corner of College Avenue. He slid out of his graduation
gown. Folding it in a clumsy roll, he walked toward his room. It was still
raining and he was wearing his only good suit. The same brown suit in which
he had received his A. B. degree in 1936. Someday he must buy a new one.

 

 

The greyness of the day, the dripping of the wet chestnut and elm trees
lining the walks of the college pleased him. The world looked washed.
The rain had cleansed the heat from the air, leaving a damp earthy smell
that was invigorating with its stir of new life taking root. Everything
seemed in sharp focus. Looking down College Avenue be noticed, as he had
every summer, that the approaches to the college, ordinarily made through
a section of dreary old houses that had seen better days, had now receded
behind a foreground of spring loveliness. A leafy arch of elms bending
from either side of the street to touch in the middle canopied the street.
Old cobblestones still remaining in the center of the street, between two
unused street car tracks, glistened like wet cakes of naphtha soap. Tiny
rivulets of water trickled along the gutter, seeming for a moment to have
a gay permanence. The world seemed to have its arm around Mat's shoulder,
whispering happily in his ear.

 

 

He dropped his cap and gown in his room and wrote a note for Doctor Tangle.
"I'm going home for awhile. Please hold my room. I plan to work at Latham's
starting in July for a few months. I'll talk with you when I return."

 

 

He packed a small cloth suit case. If his luck continued, he could still
avoid meeting Yale. Harry Cohen would let him sleep out in his yard.
The nights would be warm enough. Without caring why he had the thought,
he knew that he wanted to stay near Cynthia. She needed help, and in
some way not unpleasing to Mat, had involved herself in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

15

 

 

Yale wished that he could cry -- wished that like some figure from a Greek
tragedy he could claw his eyes and moan his grief to the heavens. There
must be some way to relieve the dull despair that left him sitting
in his room, hearing but not feeling the gaiety of the orchestra that
played on the grounds below. "This is your sister's wedding reception,"
Liz had said. "Please, tonight of all nights don't mope. You can't sit
up here alone. Everyone in Midhaven who counts is here. Your father
would like it if you were among the guests.

 

 

Yes, Pat would like it. And Liz would like it. And Barbara would like
it. But what did they care about him? Liz had been astonished when he
said, "I've lost the only person in my life who ever loved me."

 

 

"You mean that Jewish girl! Yale, you know we couldn't invite her to
the wedding. There are no Jews here tonight. Can't you appreciate, Yale,
that this is a family affair? Tom's mother and father wouldn't understand
anything like that -- or any of Pat's friends for that matter."

 

 

Yale looked at her bitterly. "Leave me alone, Liz. If you call five
hundred or more people out there on the lawn, dancing in those tents,
getting sloppily drunk, a family affair, that's your business. How much
did this family affair set Pat back anyway? Nothing under ten thousand
dollars I'll bet."

 

 

"You are a very unappreciative boy, Yale Marratt. Pat gave you a brand
new car today that cost him more than a thousand dollars. This is your
only sister's wedding. In an hour she'll be gone on her honeymoon. You
can see your girl friend anytime. I'm sure she would realize that she is
not one of our friends or your sister's friends. If you had any decency
you would come downstairs. Pat is very proud of you. Now that this last
terrible year has been forgotten, you should do everything possible to
make up with him."

 

 

Yale wanted to say to her: Liz, you're my mother, can't you understand?
Can't you believe I have loved Cindar as much and more, perhaps, than
Barbara loves this fellow Tom? Can't you realize that a wedding ceremony
doesn't make a marriage -- that I am married to Cindar for a lifetime? He
said nothing because this would only be the "ravings of puppy love"
to Liz.

 

 

There was no hope. That afternoon after graduation he had telephoned
Dave Carnell. Cynthia's father had been crying. He could tell by his
husky voice.

 

 

"Yale. is that you? Oh, my God, Yale what has happened?" Carnell's voice
broke. Yale could hear him trying to clear his throat. "Tell me it isn't
true, Yale! To Cynthia, how could this happen?"

 

 

Yale couldn't grasp his meaning. Mat Chilling had told him that Cynthia
had gone home. Was her father referring to her condition? Yale thought
of the cruel gash on her face and shuddered.

 

 

"Dave. Mr. Carnell, I don't know why she did it. I love her very much.
Please, Mr. Carnell, let me talk to her."

 

 

"Talk to her? Talk to her? She isn't here! 'Where is she? Do you know?
Who did she marry? How is it possible? Only last week, she writes Adar
all about you."

 

 

"Marry? Mr. Carnell, marry! What do you mean? She's going to marry me!"

 

 

He heard Dave Carnell groan. "Oh, my poor boy. You didn't know. She didn't
tell you, either! She's run away with some man. She's only known him for
two months. She called me last night. My heart should break. She sounded
so cold. Adar and I were ready to come for graduation. Today -- we have
looked forward to -- for so long. My only daughter. What could have made
this happen?"

 

 

Piecing together the information he had from Dave, Yale knew that
there was only one answer. Mat Chilling was involved. Mat was hiding
Cynthia. Crazy with anger, Yale had gone to Doctor Tangle's house
demanding to know where Mat was.

 

 

"I didn't know you were friends with Mat," Doctor Tangle answered.
"He's gone home to Maine." Doctor Tangle handed Yale Mat's note. "I can't
understand what's come over Mat in the past few months. Something has
disturbed his religious thinking." Doctor Tangle beamed at Yale. "Well,
most of us in the cloth pass through that at one time or another. Mat
has character. He'll come through. Why don't you come in for a cup
of tea? It's a custom with us on graduation day. Quite a few of our
compatriots are in the living room."

 

 

Yale declined. He asked Doctor Tangle if he knew Mat's home address.
It was Bridgeton or Lisbon Falls . . . or was it Presque Isle? Doctor Tangle
wasn't positive. He would look it up for him Monday. As Yale was leaving,
Doctor Tangle promised to see him. later at Barbara's wedding. "Quite
a day for the Marratts," he chuckled. "A Phi Beta Kappa graduate and a
wealthy son-in-law all in one day. Pat must be very happy."

 

 

Where could Mat and Cynthia have gone? They had no car. Could they have
taken a bus? Was it true? Was it true that Cynthia had run away with
Mat Chilling? It simply couldn't be true. But what had come over her
yesterday? After three years of knowing her and loving her, could he
have suspected that she could have changed character so Completely? He
remembered her naked, bloody, her hair disheveled, screaming, "Go ahead
-- rape me!" That wasn't any Cynthia he had known. It was as if a tiny,
soft kitten had suddenly metamorphosed into a snarling tigress. Did
everyone have within him a Mr. Hyde aspect, he wondered? Even he had
not recognized himself saying "I'll fuck you." A word he had never used
before, or even thought in relation to the act of love.

 

 

Oh, God, what a confused, miserable day this had been. Every minute he
had been trapped by events, balked in his search for Cynthia.

 

 

It had started last night. Had he known that Mat had been lying, he
could have forced an answer then. He should never have left Cynthia.
But he had had no choice. Cynthia had forced him to leave. It had seemed
logical that Cynthia would go home. Certainly, he had no refuge to
offer her. Knowing her pride, knowing that she wouldn't want a barrage
of questions from the girls in the dormitory, it had seemed plausible
that she would return to the shelter of her family.

 

 

Staying awake half the night, Yale had planned, immediately after
Barbara's wedding, to drive to New Jersey. When he found Cynthia he
would make her confess to him what he had done. Why she had acted so
crazily? But now he knew the mistake he had made was not to have called
New Jersey in the morning. If he had done that he would have known. He
could have cornered Mat at graduation and found where Cynthia was. She
must have stayed with Mat all night in his room. The thought of what might
have happened made Yale blush with anger. Could she have done that? Would
they have made love? No -- God, no! Cynthia wasn't promiscuous. But she
had stayed somewhere and Mat was at the graduation. . . .

 

 

He had planned to talk with Mat right after the ceremony. But it had
been impossible. There was Pat, happy, grinning like a kid, waiting
for him. Yale had felt a sudden remorse over his behavior of the past
year. Pat was a tyrant, that was for sure, but today he had tried to be
human. He had put his hand out to shake hands and then, overcome with
emotion, had pulled Yale into his arms and hugged him. "I'm damned proud
of you, son. Never thought I would have a son graduate Phi Beta Kappa.
By God, I knew you had something locked up in that skull of yours.
Shall we let bygones be bygones?"